Leon the Lion and Merlin's Cloak
by starsailor iphigenia
Summary: How does Leon survive everything? What is that animal on the Pendragon crest? Why do the knights of Camelot never wear cloaks that aren't bright red? Merlin discovers that all three questions have one answer. Crack. Golden Age-ish, AU. Veers into a crossover with the MCU.


Merlin cheerfully presented Arthur with his new cloak. It was a very nice cloak; red, like a proper knight's should be, and with the crest of the Pendragons proudly displayed on the shoulder in gold.

Why exactly anyone wanted their knights, who more often than not were used as a sort of elite spy squad, to wear as bright as red as it was possible to dye for their outerwear was beyond Merlin's considerable powers of intuition. Long ago, he had just assumed that it was some sort of universal human instinct to stupid, and since he'd found that that explanation was nicely multipurpose ( ''I really killed a dragon, Merlin?'' ''Yes indeed you did Arthur, killed it so well there aren't even any little bits left.'' ''See, that kind of prowess is why I'm the prince.'' ) he'd come to just accept the scarlet cloaks and clean up the inevitable wreckage that followed.

''Merlin.''

Merlin turned around from seeing to the rest of Arthur's laundry. Surely he hadn't managed to muck up putting on a cloak? It was pretty much the simplest item of clothing there was.

''This isn't the Pendragon crest.''

''What?''

Arthur held the cloak out at arm's length and shook it. ''This isn't the Pendragon crest.''

''Yes, I heard you the first time, but what do you mean that isn't the crest? I embroidered half of it myself.''

''Half of it?'' Arthur asked, momentarily distracted.

''Gwen was cooking.''

''Which half did you do?''

''I can't remember. But it looks like the Pendragon crest to me.'' Merlin examined the offending patch of gold thread. ''Yep, that's a majestic . . . blobby thing in gold. Nice and shiny. It even has claws, see? And a tail.''

''This is a lion, you idiot.''

''Oh, is that what it is?'' Merlin was surprised. He'd never been able to figure out exactly what the animal was. ''Why is it a lion? They're not exactly common around here.''

''It's not supposed to be a lion!'' Arthur was miraculously not quite yelling. ''It's a dragon! A DRAGON, Merlin!''

''But you father hates dragons!''

Arthur flung the cloak at Merlin's head and then jammed his hands on his hips, glaring at him. ''I'm not named Arthur Penlion! There's a symmetry to this, not that I'd expect you to understand. The family crest is a dragon because the family name is Pendragon.''

Merlin laid the cloak over a chair and smiled sheepishly. Pendragons who weren't even able to communicate successfully with dragons. There was more universal irony for you. ''Well, maybe you need to look into changing your name, then.''

Arthur spluttered.

''Lions are nice, very majestic and, uh, regal and proud and stuff.''

''But dragons are the kings of the sky! Lions just don't project the right image!''

''I hope you don't say that in front of Leon,'' said Merlin, and then was struck with a sudden, awesome, thought.

He'd always wondered how Leon had managed to survive all the attacks he'd encountered. It was almost routine for patrols to be decimated up to the last man — that specific man being Sir Leon, who would come back, sometimes with nasty injuries, but more often than not just a few scratches and advance information on whatever vengeful sorcerer was attacking that week.

He, along with ninety-five percent of the kingdom, had always sincerely believed the crest of Camelot and the Pendragons to be a lion.

Leon's name meant ''lion''. He even looked like a lion, with his curling golden halo and manly beard.

Ergo, Leon had inadvertently become the living symbol of Camelot through the power of belief.

Could the answer really be so simple?

0000

Since Arthur had childishly rejected his new ceremonial cloak because ''For the last time, the crest is a damn DRAGON, you half-witted imbecile!'', Merlin had appropriated it. After all, it was nice and warm, and he didn't care what animal was on it. He even acquired some odds and ends of threads and silks from Gwen and the other seamstresses around the castle and experimented a little with patterns and such. It was slightly asymmetrical now, from where he had hemmed it a bit too vigorously, but he thought it looked rather stylish and since he'd added a high collar, it wasn't that noticeable. He'd also added silver clasps at the neck (a gift from Elyan) and a thick lining.

After all, if he was going to go on patrol, he might as well have a cloak that could keep him comfortable as well as drawing the attention of every enemy within line of sight.

Curiously enough, Arthur didn't object to him wearing it openly on patrol. But one day when it flashed in the sunlight and then got caught on a branch and nearly got Merlin and everyone else killed while they were defending themselves against a surprise attack of bandits, Arthur had had enough. When they returned to Camelot, he put a new item on the next council meeting.

Merlin wasn't paying much attention to the meeting. He was standing in his usual place in the back, unnoticed by everyone, using the time to magically dye the cloak a little darker, more of a dark cherry red than the traditional Camelot scarlet. He hoped that this would keep it from standing out in the forest so much. And it would be useful if it could untangle itself from obstacles when he was being choked by it. And maybe if it could hold things for him — it was still very long, with a lot of extra fabric, and there were those pointy ends from where he had trimmed too enthusiastically in dim light . . .

He was jolted back to the present by a loud slapping sound. He glanced up at the Round Table to see Arthur standing, having just slammed his hands down.

''I recognize that this council made a decision, but given that it's a stupid-ass decision I'm going to ignore it! I am the King! No more bright red cloaks for knights on patrol! Being shot because someone saw you coming a mile off is not impressive in the slightest!''

Merlin smiled. He knew the signs of a Thinking Arthur, and this idea about the cloak color had been ruminating in the King's brain for a comparatively long time now.

Now, if only he could think of some way to explain his Theory of Leon without freaking out Arthur about magic or Leon about immortality, he would have no pressing demands on his time.

0000

Years passed. For a while, he nearly thought Arthur was doomed at a particularly nasty battle up in the mountains, but Mordred turned out to be a truly spectacular double agent and stabbed Morgana with a dragon-forged sword instead of Arthur. The Five Kingdoms allied themselves solidly together and soon they were all ruled solely by Arthur as the kings and queens who were of his father's generation died. Albion was forming before their eyes.

Sadly, the symbol of Albion was a white dragon. On the bright side, it was just as blobby and vaguely lion-shaped as the old Pendragon one, so Leon gained extra powers. Some days, he literally shone from within with a great light as they charged into battle. Arthur was as oblivious as ever. The only indication he gave of noticing was asking Merlin to invent some kind of visor that dimmed bright lights, ''for those battles we keep having where the sun's in our eyes''.

Merlin's Cloak had also gained powers. It had gained the ability to levitate its wearer (the idea came during a brief spat he'd had with Kilgarrah in which the dragon refused to fly him anywhere and Merlin really didn't want to ride a horse all the way to Nemeth) and also had some limited shielding and armor capabilities. He'd never worked with such a magic-friendly piece of fabric. And after Aithusa had made up with him, he'd lined it with shed dragonskin before covering that with fabric. Now it could resist even dragon-forged blades.

He was the Court Sorcerer now, having gotten up the nerve to reveal himself to Arthur after that last battle with Morgana. His dramatic moment had probably been a little undermined by the fact that he tearfully confessed he was a sorcerer while wearing a cloak that was simultaneously holding the reins of his horse, Arthur's horse, and Arthur's sword, but it certainly had impressed Arthur.

Arthur had yet to see him fly, though.

That day came soon after Albion had grown to incorporate the entire isle of Brittania. Leon had also recently gained the ability to fly from all the people now believing in the symbol of the lion-dragon. So when the citadel of Carlisle where they were staying the winter was attacked by a rogue sorcerer and his army, Leon and Merlin took to the skies. Leon had a crossbow and an enchanted refilling quiver, Merlin was just shooting spheres of fire from his hands.

When the battle was over and the forces of Albion were victorious, they descended slowly towards the castle courtyard. Merlin moved gracefully, like a bird, the Cloak flowing majestically behind him. It had a taste for drama. Leon was a little more awkward, since his abilities seemed to come from his feet and his hands, making him able to fly up and down very well, but not so easily from side to side. Merlin was working on a special suit of armor for him that could spread the magical force around a little.

Just as they reached head height in the deserted courtyard, Arthur and Gwen came in and saw them. Gwen's mouth dropped open. Arthur squinted suspiciously at Leon.

''Merlin, that's very . . . strange,'' he said after a long, long silence.

''Sire?'' said Merlin. Playing dumb was always the best way to handle Arthur in a snit.

''Did you or did you not notice that Sir Leon, one of my best knights, is hovering beside you?''

''Oh, that. I thought you were talking about Will.''

Arthur looked up into the sky so fast Merlin heard his neck pop.

''This is Will,'' said Merlin, and the Cloak waved an end. Arthur smiled weakly. ''But about Leon. Do you remember that day I brought you a new cloak and you made me remake it because you said it had a lion crest on it instead of a dragon?''

''Merlin, if you're trying to distract me —''

''No, I'm not, honest. Turns out that pretty much everyone in Albion except you thought it was a lion too. And Leon's name means lion, and he's the same color as a lion, and he's brave and noble and lionly, so they sort of thought of him as a mascot.''

''A mascot.''

''And so they all believe in him when they see him fighting. That's how he's survived all these years. And then when you formed Albion and made the new crest, everyone, er, still thought it was a lion. I'm afraid your art skills are not your strength, sire. So he started getting more and more magical powers. And now he can fly, and disintegrate things —"

Leon obligingly shot a beam of blue fire out of one hand and blasted a piece of stone that was blocking a doorway in the town. Several workmen waved happily at him.

''— and shield himself and lots of other useful things.''

Arthur groaned. ''Let's talk about this tomorrow, Leon. And could you both come down? I think I'm getting a cramp.''

They obligingly descended.

''This will make a wonderful story someday,'' said Gwen, patting Merlin's arm and then patting Will so he didn't get jealous. ''Lion Man and the Servant Supreme. I'll have to remember to chat with Geoffrey when we get home.''

Merlin groaned.

The Cloak patted his head in sympathy.


End file.
